


(un)hopeful

by Jokaste



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Gen, kataang not implied at all!! not a shippy fic, katara-centric, kinda angsty i guess, repost from ff.net
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 13:38:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6155419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jokaste/pseuds/Jokaste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was always destined for greatness. She wasn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(un)hopeful

He was always destined for greatness. She wasn't. And yet, here she was, holding his limp body (not a corpse; never a corpse) in her arms, praying to the moon, to the sea, to any and every spirit she can think of that he would regain conciousness.

As she sits on the bison's saddle, the cold air tangling her hair and biting cruelly into her face, she thinks that she deserves all this and more. She should have protected him, should have tried harder (she tried so hard). Now, she tries desperately to hang onto what little hope she has left. It is ironic, she thinks. It had defined her for so long, others turning to her to lift their spirits when they were losing sight of what was important. She had had someone to turn to, once. But her mother was gone now, and it was her place to step in, to be strong, because if not her then who? If not now then when? They all have a role to play in the war, and this is hers. But how can she continue to be a beacon of hope for their little gang (eventually, for the world) if she cannot even find it in herself to stay hopeful? Time passes. Precious, valuable time passes while she thinks about her own shortcomings. She curses herself, hates herself for hesitating and takes out the tiny vial of spirit water - the last piece of hope she has left - and uses it on his wound.

The next couple of seconds pass slowly, painfully so, like the spirits are punishing her for endangering the world's last chance at peace. She accepts this to be the truth, and will not resent them later. In the meantime, she gazes hopefully at the face of this young, targeted child (he didn't deserve any of this) and she waits for something - anything - to happen. When his tattoo finally glows and his eyes open, staring back into hers, she forgets to hate herself just for that moment. He is back, and she did this.

As she leaves him to rest, she thinks about her duty to the world, and she starts to feel a warmth spreading through her chest. She is hopeful for the future.

**Author's Note:**

> First real go at writing anything that isn't meant for school, so any feedback would be appreciated (even if you think it's terrible) ⭐⭐


End file.
